


Rise to the Top Now

by ClutchHedonist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Boots - Freeform, Choking, Dom/sub, Drabbles, Emperor Hux, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kylux - Freeform, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Love/Hate, M/M, hux's coat, knight Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutchHedonist/pseuds/ClutchHedonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Kylux drabbles, including petulant tiffs, Emperor!Hux, filthy smut on Hux's coat, and Hux patching up a wounded Kylo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise to the Top Now

**Author's Note:**

> I am ALWAYS taking Kylux prompts at clutchhedonist.tumblr.com :3

(Prompt: Hurt Kylo Ren in the aftermath of TFA, Hux glowering over him/tending to him.)

The medidroid lets out a series of alarmed whistles as it’s thrown back against the transport wall. Hux lets out an annoyed hiss and steps forward.

“Ren.” He spits, leaning over the bloodied gurney, one hand on either of the knight’s shoulders, “You’re going die if you keep up this…this ridiculous tantrum of yours.”

He receives a half-delirious groan for his efforts and huffs. One gloved hand forces Kylo’s uninjured shoulder back down, and Hux nods back to the droid. It trundles forward with a few small, uncertain bleeps, manipulators clacking together nervously.

“Stay down.” Hux ducks in to try to catch the other man’s gaze. He sighs as Ren’s eyelids flutters, then wraps his fingers loosely around the knight’s long throat. Dilated pupils manage to focus on him at this sensation.

“Down.” The General repeats, lower this time. Beneath him, Kylo swallows and manages a faint nod.

“She-” He rasps as the droid begins its careful work.

“Not now.” Hux tells him as he tilts his chin up with his thumb.

Kylo coughs meekly in response, a few speckles of blood spattering up over his bottom lip. Hux frowns and smears them away.

“Later.” He promises, “We’ll find them. And then we can break them however we see fit. Later.”

***

(Prompt: The way each of them pitch a fit and how they hate/love each other afterwards.)

This time, it’s an offhanded remark about his mother. Kylo knows that he’s hit a nerve when Hux stiffens. It’s always the same, the way that Hux’s nostrils flare, his eyebrows cant, and his head turns towards Kylo, shoulders tight and motionless. For all of a single moment, the redhead’s mental feedback becomes a brief, savage squall before it tempers and flattens into a razor’s edge.

“What did you say?” Hux’s voice is tight, even. 

Kylo has no choice. There’s no apologizing, no throwing his hands into the air and backing away, “What? That perhaps a droid would have been more effe-”

Hux’s palm stings against Kylo’s cheek. The dark haired man swallows the brunt of the impact, huffs when the backhand follows. Passionless. Measured. Twice. 

Kylo can feel the blood roiling in his temples. He could - he should - crush this…this insect of a man, this less-than-nothing, this-…this-…

Hux is frowning in earnest, now, and Kylo feels a stab of regret.

“Leave my quarters immediately.” The General grates.

“Fine!” Kylo explodes into motion, “Perhaps I will!” He throws the covers off as he rises from the bed, storms into his hastily discarded robes. Hux glowers at him with slender arms crossed tight over his chest. Kylo wheels on him, shoves one finger towards his face.

“You-!” He spits, color high in his cheeks, “You have no right to-”

“Out.” Hux snaps, “That is an order.”

“Fine! Fine!” Kylo snarls, seizing his helmet from the bedside table. The gears in the door’s opening mechanism grind helplessly as he throws it open with the Force.

Hux watches him go, teeth gritted. Miserable, ridiculous, petulant bastard. He sinks back down into the rapidly cooling sheets once more and drags them tight around his shoulders. That they smell of Ren is…irrelevant.

Utterly irrelevant.

***

(Prompt: Emperor Hux putting a desperate Kylo Ren in his place on the floor of his throne room.)

“Kneel.”

Kylo’s pulse shudders in his throat. The air between them draws tight as he sinks to the floor just in front of the dais stairs. He swallows once, then again as the Emperor’s eyes rake over him. 

“Your posture is abhorrent.” Hux drawls. A pang of desperation echoes in Kylo’s chest as he straightens. 

Hux rises, hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the knight before him, “You presume to be permitted to look upon me?”

“Forgive me.” Kylo’s throat is thick, unsteady. He drops his gaze to the floor. Curls of black slip into his vision, and the derisive huff from the man above him only makes the ache between his legs more acute.

There are three measured footfalls as Hux descends the stairs from the throne. For a split second, Kylo senses what’s coming. Burns, for an instant, with shame at the knowledge that he could avoid the blow and chooses not to. Accepts the toe of Hux’s boot as it swings into his chest, throwing him back onto the floor. His long arms splay aside, useless, and Hux smirks as he perches his heel against Ren’s throat.

“Good.”

***

(Prompt: Sex on that ridiculous greatcoat that Hux wears draped over his shoulders. Bonus if he's upset about it getting mussed.)

The scent of gaberwool is distinctive, even among non-synthetic fibers. Clean, sharp, the hint of something ever-so-slightly musky as it lingers in the palate. The texture soft, matte, and elegant. 

Not soft enough, Hux has presently discovered, to prevent it from leaving burns. His knees and elbows cry out, raw and indignant, even as he presses his cheek hungrily into the collar of the coat.

“I h-hate you so much, you miserable cur…” He stammers as he’s pitched forward by each thrust. He balls his fists in one sleeve to hold back a groan.

Above him, Kylo gives a breathless laugh. His grip on Hux’s hips tightens, and Hux’s vision flickers when Ren drags them back, impaling him utterly on his length. A strangled cry cuts through him as the rest of the world ceases to be, and his body wrings itself out against the knight’s. In the swirling aftermath, he curses softly.

“You’re…you’re paying to have it cleaned…” He pants.


End file.
